


Life in the Fast Lane

by LdyAnne



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdyAnne/pseuds/LdyAnne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day John died was just the beginning.  <br/>Written for the 2010 McShep match for team play. My prompt was 'borrowed time.'  Warning for temporary character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life in the Fast Lane

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a fusion with the movie Freejack. As such it will have elements from that movie. There's a line from 'Rising' in here, I think you'll recognize it when you see it.  
> Thanks to my beta, chocolatephysicist for your help and encouragement. Also thank you to the members of Team Play for your support.  
> Disclaimer: Neither Atlantis or Freejack belong to me, I'm just playing with them; I will put them back where they belong when I'm done.

The morning of the day he died John only woke up half way the first time. It was dark outside his window, the world still shrouded in shadow. It was an important day and he was anxious to get it started, but for right now he was warm and comfortable with Rodney pressed all in next to him, he was in no hurry. He shifted a little until they were as close as he could get them and drifted back into sleep.

The next time he woke up the sun was spilling through the window filling the room with golden light. Rodney was propped up on an elbow studying John's face.

"Wha...?" John mumbled. "Did I drool?" He wiped at the imagined drool on his face.

Rodney smiled, it was a soft smile full of warm affection, "No, you dork; I was just looking at you." Rodney leaned in to kiss John.

Every kiss with Rodney was a new one – there were passionate kisses and slow, gentle kisses, good morning kisses and 'do me quick' kisses. This one was new. It was slow, like Rodney didn't ever want it to end, sweet and warm, saying all the things that they didn't normally say because they were guys.

"Hey," John smoothed a hand down Rodney's back, "what's wrong?"

Rodney grinned at him with his sideways grin, the one that John found absolutely adorable, "Nothing's wrong," he said, "I just wanted to wish you luck on the big race today."

John let his hand wander under the covers, palming Rodney's ass cheek pulling them more snugly together. "Luck? Is that what they're calling it these days?" He leaned up to nip at Rodney's lip, thrusting with his hips.

Rodney gasped at the friction. "Oh, god, John, you can call it anything you want if you just keep doing that."

John smirked a little, but then bit back a gasp of his own as Rodney got a hand between them. He wrapped it around John and stroked.

"Oh, yeah, Rodney," he breathed falling back against the pillows.

Rodney kissed him again as he jacked John, stealing John's breath away into his own body. He stroked smoothly, not hurried at all, like they had all the time in the world. John could feel the pleasure wash over him in waves, starting at the place where Rodney touched him.

"Love you," Rodney whispered, almost too low for John to hear. It tipped him over the edge and he came, clutching Rodney like a lifeline.

Rodney held him, still stroking slowly until John hissed. He settled with his head on John's shoulder.

"Good luck," he said, his smirk firmly in place.

John kissed him on the top of the head. "Give me a minute and I'll give you a blowjob that will melt your toes."

Rodney wrapped his arms around John, pressing his hard-on into John's hip. "Nope, I'm good."

"What?" John pushed away until he could look into Rodney's face. "This," he thrust his hips against Rodney causing him to gasp and buck a little, "isn't good."

Rodney did a little rubbing of his own. "I am good. And leave it. I want to wait until tonight when I can fuck the winner of the Atlantis Grand Prix."

"Yeah," John grinned at the thought. "You think I'm going to win it?"

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "Who designed and built that car you're driving?"

"Radek?" John hazarded a guess. He hissed when Rodney twisted tender flesh. "Okay, you did." John grinned, he knew he probably looked goofy, but it was only him and Rodney so it was allowed

"Then you damn well better win the race," Rodney leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet like molasses. "If you don't, you'll be sleeping alone tonight."

John snickered, "Oh, as if."

"What?" Rodney pushed John away, "You think I can't live without you?"

John leaned in to do the kissing this time. He was fast and ruthless, plundering Rodney's mouth until Rodney was pushing at him restlessly with his hips. Only then did he pull away, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "I know you can't live without me," he pronounced.

Rodney, instead of having a snarky rejoinder, turned unusually solemn. "I can't, you know. Live without you. So, don't ever make me, okay?"

"Never," John promised, sealing their deal with another kiss.

As he pulled away, fully intending to deal with Rodney's hard-on no matter what Rodney said, Rodney slipped out of his arms jumping out of their bed. "Come on, we're going to be late."

And yeah, Rodney was right. It just wouldn't do for John to be late to the Atlantis Grand Prix. Especially if the winning driver was going to get fucked by Rodney McKay, he intended for that driver to be John Sheppard.

~~~~~

When they arrived, the excitement was so thick in the air that John could practically taste it. It was one of the things that he loved about racing, that and cars that went over 200 miles an hour.

He and Rodney threaded their way through the crowds, people calling out their names. John smiled and waved, not stopping until a reporter stepped deliberately into their path.

"Come on, Sheppard, you have to give us something for our readers," the reporter, Katie Brown smiled at them winningly. She had a bright smile and brilliant red hair. She'd been flirting with Rodney shamelessly for the last three races; John wasn't inclined to be nice. But he knew that her magazine was a widely respected one, so he reigned in his jealous streak.

"What would you like to know?" he asked her, plastering on his best charm-the-natives smile.

She peeked around his shoulder to smile at Rodney, but then turned her attention back to John. "Well, you're such a mysterious person, John Sheppard, you never give interviews. Tell us what John Sheppard likes."

A crowd gathered around them. John could see some of their team on the edges of the crowd. Lorne smirked at him; Lorne knew how much John hated this shit. He loved the fans, he could sign autographs and trade bullshit all day, but John didn't have the patience for the reporters and their invasive questions, their insinuations about his black mark in the Air Force and, 'why did you really leave the Air Force, John?'

But this? This he could do.

John gave her his most charming smile, "Me? I like Ferris wheels, college football, and anything that goes over 200 miles an hour." He grabbed Rodney's hand and began to tug him past Katie. Then he turned back, "Oh, and you can tell them that I absolutely hate clowns. Will that do?"

Katie's dimples showed when she smiled at him. "Oh, that will do nicely, John. Thank you. And Rodney...?"

John had them past her and out of range before she could ask whatever it was she wanted to ask Rodney.

"What did you do that for?" Rodney frowned at John. "She was probably going to ask me about the car, maybe how the body is designed or something like that."

"Oh, I think she wanted to ask you about a body, but not the car's," John rolled his eyes.

"What?" Rodney really was clueless. Katie had been coming on to him for awhile now, and Rodney just didn't see it. "You mean she...?" Rodney tugged on John's hand slowing them down, pulling him out of the stream of people. "You know I never would... with her. Or anyone else. It's just you."

Rodney was so sweetly earnest; John leaned in, kissing him lightly - reporters and photographers be damned. Sure enough, a flash went off just as he was pulling back.

"Ah, hell," John moaned, leaning his forehead against Rodney's.

Rodney cupped his face, "It's not so bad," he whispered fiercely. "You're the bad boy of the F1 circuit. No one'll even be surprised that you're kissing me. And I'll tell them that I seduced you." Rodney was desperate, trying to salvage the situation somehow.

John sighed. He had known that he and Rodney couldn't keep what they had secret forever. He'd just liked having Rodney for himself, just their little secret.

"It's not that," John said, trying to reassure Rodney who was watching him with fear stark in his eyes. His body was tense; like he was afraid John was going to hurt him any minute.

"What?" Rodney asked.

"They got my bad side." John swung Rodney around, back into the ebb and flow of people. He pulled Rodney in kissing him again, making it good for the camera and for Rodney. There were hoots and hollers from the crowd, but all John was aware of was that Rodney was relaxing into him, the fear leaving him.

When Rodney pulled away, he was smiling again at John. "You are a liar, John Sheppard," he said softly. "You don't have a bad side."

~~~~~

The only thing that John loved more than Rodney McKay (or at least as much) was racing. The feel of the car that responded to his every touch, the speed, the freedom, the rush of the wind, the roar of the crowd - there was nothing like it in the world. When he was in the driver's seat everything disappeared. The car and Rodney's voice in his ear was all there was.

"How are you doing, John?" Rodney asked. Rodney couldn't, wouldn't say anything over the radio, while everyone was listening in to their conversation. John could hear the warmth of his tone though.

"Doing good, Rodney," John said as he shifted, the car purring in response to his deft touch. They'd had their warm up lap and all the cars were forming into the grid. John was keeping an eye on the lights. Any second now. "You?"

"I'm good. Got plans for tonight," there was a sly teasing tone in Rodney's voice.

John grinned. "Yeah? Hot date?"

"You might say," Rodney said.

"If you two are not too busy," Zelenka cut in, "we have race to run."

"Ah, you're just jealous, Radek," John eased off the gas as a car in front of him slowed down.

"Of Rodney McKay? Not likely."

The red lights signaling the beginning of the race began to light – One, two, three...

"Drive safe, John," Rodney said softly.

Four, five... and then all of the lights went off.

The engines whined as the drivers pulled out, each one eagerly seeking the early lead. John loved that initial surge of speed that pushed him back in his seat as he surged forward with all the rest.

The speed was the most amazing thing. John loved going fast, over 200 miles an hour. When everything went right, there was nothing like it, except maybe sex with Rodney.

But when things went wrong, it was all happening too fast to do anything about it. John didn't even see the car that drifted over bumping him. Suddenly his car was sliding sideways out of his control. The cars around him didn't have time to react as John careened into their path.

The car was designed to be safe. It was designed to protect its driver from almost any eventuality. But when John was airborne and impacted the wall, it couldn't protect him from the fireball that erupted. The last thing that John heard was Rodney's voice, "Oh, god, John, no!"

~~~~~~

All of the news channels lead with the story: "The world of Formula 1 racing endured a terrible loss today with the death of driver John Sheppard. His friends and team mates on the O'Neill racing team will miss him." They always cut to the picture of Rodney trying to run onto the field, Lorne holding him back. John's car could be seen burning in the background.

Rodney could never listen to the story all the way through. He always turned it off, except for the one time when he shouted, "Fucking bastard," and threw his whiskey glass through the television.

But there were always more tragedies in the world. Eventually John's story was replaced with plane crashes and car bombers in remote corners of the world.

Rodney had to go on, although he thought he would die without John. He didn't. His life went on.

And so did the world.

~~~~~~~

John didn't remember losing consciousness. But he thought he must have. One minute he was headed toward the wall. All he could think was that Rodney was going to be so pissed. The next thing he was aware of was a man bending over him shining a light in his eyes. He didn't know how he survived his collision with the wall, but he wasn't going to question his good luck.

"Rodney?" he croaked out, trying to get a look around.

The doctor's eyes grew round. "Holy fuck!" the guy shouted to someone that John couldn't see, "he's awake. He's not supposed to be awake." John had no idea what he was talking about.

Except for the fact that he felt like he hit a wall, John didn't actually feel too bad. He tried to push himself up but the room swung around him and he sagged back. The doctor pushed down with a hand on his chest to hold him in place. John could see that in his other hand he was holding a syringe.

There was something wrong. John couldn't quite pin it down, but this was like no hospital he had ever been in and he has been in a few hospitals, being a Formula One driver wasn't the safest job ever.

A second pair of hands took over holding John down while the doctor uncapped the syringe and primed it.

The doctor smirked down at John. "This won't hurt a bit," he said. There was a wealth of malice in the man's tone. John decided there was no way the doc was getting near him with the syringe. He began to struggle, his head was clearing rapidly.

"Hold him still," the doctor spat out. "You don't want me to inject you with this by mistake. No one would pay five million for your worthless carcass."

The man might as well have been speaking Greek for all that his words made sense to John, mostly they just reinforced his thought that he didn't want to be touched with the syringe.

When John bucked up and kicked with his feet, he discovered that they weren't restrained. The guy that was holding his shoulders down let go to move down and secure his feet. That was his last mistake. John grabbed the man and pulled the guy over him just as the doctor plunged the syringe into John's chest. It hit the other guy in the back. The guy screamed then convulsed, he went still almost immediately.

The doctor growled. "I need some help in here," he screamed.

John didn't intend to stick around to find out what the doctor had in mind. He rolled the dead guy off him and slid off the table after him.

He blinked around the room trying to get his bearings. He had no idea where he was or why. How did he end up in this sick torture chamber? And where was Rodney? That's what scared John the most. Rodney would never let John be taken anywhere if he was injured without coming with him. What had these sick fucks done to Rodney?

A door opened in the wall opposite John and two more men entered. The doctor stood back against the wall and pointed to where John was still crouched next to his gurney. They advanced toward him, menace written in every inch of their body.

The room had no windows, there was no exit that John could see except the door through which the two men had entered and they were between him and that door. The doctor stood back out of the way letting the two thugs do the dirty work.

The two men spotted John almost immediately. The room wasn't that large and there weren't that many places to hide. They advanced on John, splitting up to trap him between them.

"Don't bruise him," the doctor told them. "He's worth five million dollars to us. But our instructions are not to harm him."

John could definitely get behind the do no harm bit, he just wasn't sure their idea of harm was the same as his. He didn't really want to stick around and find out. He just didn't see how he was going to get out.

At that moment there was an explosion from somewhere outside rocking the entire room. For just a second everything tilted. The thugs stumbled, falling to their knees; the doctor was thrown into the wall. John was low, so he was tossed to his side, but he recovered quickly. He rushed at one of the thugs while the guy was down.

The guy saw John coming. He brought his weapon up. Another explosion rocked the room sending the guy sprawling. John dove for the weapon. He brought it up as the other thug crashed into him. John pulled the trigger – once, twice, three times. The guy jerked with each impact before he finally fell. The other thug backed away when John turned the weapon on him. The doctor hadn't moved since he slid down the wall. John couldn't say he was sorry.

When the room rocked again John decided it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

The door slid aside as he approached. John didn't even question it, he just dove through.

He found himself in the dark, literally. He was outside but it was full night, although explosions lit up the night around him. What he could see in the brilliant flashes it looked like a war zone, and he was smack dab in the middle of it.

There were two vehicles on either side of the kind-of-ambulance John had just emerged from. They could have been tanks if only because they had a lot of shielding and they had guns on the top. They were firing into the night at targets that John couldn't see. There were flashes from weapons in the darkness as something targeted the area around John's vehicles. Nothing actually hit them, but explosions kept rocking them, hitting as close as they could without actually doing damage. Hits that precise had to be deliberate.

John tried to decide where to go, what to do next. He had no idea where he was, what he was supposed to do. Mostly he just wanted to be away from this fucked up place.

He could see figures moving in the darkness, shapes moving closer. It was time for him to be scarce, John decided. He'd mapped out his escape route and was moving through the shadows when a man stepped in front o f him. His face was cold and chiseled, his manner deliberate. He hefted a weapon up, holding it with casual menace.

The man studied John. "Going somewhere, Sheppard?" he asked.

John made sure his own weapon was lowered. He didn't want the guy to think he was a threat. This guy wasn't like the jokers he'd left behind.

"I don't think we've met." John said cautiously. He watched as the shadows he'd seen before melted back into the night.

"Yeah, probably not," the man said. He smiled and his teeth gleamed white, like a shark's before it attacked. "Name's Acustus Koyla. I remember your crash; it was all over the news back in the day. Damn shame about the car though, it was a beaut. Imagine getting to meet you all these years later."

"See, I know your lips are moving, but I don't really get what you're saying." John felt the frustration flow through him. Nothing was making sense.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Koyla said. "You're not going to be alive much longer." He pointed his weapon with intent, gesturing for John to walk. John raised his hands obediently.

"Put down the weapon," a voice called out from the darkness.

John felt relief sweep over him. He'd know that voice anywhere. "Rodney," he called hopefully.

"I'm here, John," Rodney called back. "Now, Koyla, if you value your worthless bounty-hunting life, drop the weapon."

"Give it up, McKay," Koyla growled. "You can't win here. There's a five million dollar bounty on this runner, and I intend to collect."

"I hear you talking," Rodney said, "but I don't see any action." A shot rang out. It pinged off something to Koyla's side. The big guy didn't even flinch. "Now drop the weapon."

The man lowered his weapon reluctantly; the lines of his body tight with barely suppressed anger. "You won't get away with this, McKay," he growled.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong." Rodney materialized out of the shadows.

John had to blink, because he would know Rodney's voice anywhere. But this... He just stared, not sure what to say.

"Rodney?"

Rodney picked up Koyla's weapon, handing it to John. "I know a lot of this doesn't make sense to you, John. Trust me, okay?"

John nodded, that he could do. He took the weapon, checking it out to make sure he knew how to use if he needed to. "We going?" he asked taking another chance to check out Rodney.

Rodney. At least his eyes hadn't changed. They were as blue as ever, as expressive. Rodney had never been able to hide anything from John. And now John saw the fear in Rodney's eyes. Fear that John just didn't understand. He took John's arm, his fingers gripping tightly, almost too tightly.

"This way," he said. He tugged on John's arm and they moved away, leaving Koyla at their back, seething with anger.

"Go ahead, run, I'll find you, wherever you go, Sheppard," Koyla bellowed into the night.

The words caused a shiver to slide down John's back. "Uh, Rodney, is it a good idea to leave him back there?"

Rodney didn't pause or look back. He just kept moving through the shadows. "He's going to follow us no matter what we do unless we kill him. You want to kill him?"

John didn't. Even though the guy seemed determined to kill him. He shook his head.

"Okay, then, come on. I have to get you someplace safe." Rodney grabbed John's hand, twining their fingers together. He gripped John's hand hard like he never intended to let go.

John didn't know where 'someplace safe' was, but they started by running through a park. Or what might have been a park once. John thought he remembered that there was a park near the track of the race. It had been a nice park, he and Rodney had walked through it one afternoon exploring the area and the path the race would take.

It wasn't nice now, it was a nightmare. People were living in the park, in cardboard boxes or whatever they could form a shelter out of. There were open fires with people sitting around them. Faces peered at them curiously as they ran by. John had nightmare glimpses of open wounds and people missing limbs. There were children playing in the dancing firelight. They looked like the children John saw on TV from third world countries with distended stomachs or they were so thin you could count their ribs. Some of them ran after John and Rodney, shouting like it was a game.

John kept hoping that he would wake up in the hospital, full of the good drugs. It could happen. When he paused to take a closer look at a woman sitting in the doorway of her cardboard hut, a baby sleeping across her shoulder, Rodney tugged sharply on his hand.

"We can't stop here," he said. "It's not safe. If any of these people find out you're a runner with a five million dollar bounty on your head, they'll turn you in so fast it'll make your head swim."

"What's going on, Rodney?" John didn't know how much longer he could wait for answers. This was all so wrong. He felt like he'd fallen through the rabbit hole into a completely different world.

Rodney stopped, turning to John. John swallowed not sure what to make of the changes to this man that he loved. It was Rodney, it could only be Rodney, he would know those blue eyes anywhere. But the rest.... Rodney had grown more solid, his shoulders and chest broader. His hair, the hair that John loved running his fingers through, was thinning, his hair line receding. Even his face was different – more filled out and rounded with lines that could only be wrought by age.

"John," Rodney began, frustration flitting across his face. "There's no time. You've got to trust me here." There was anguish on Rodney's face that John had never seen there before. Like maybe it was just occurring to him that John might not trust him.

"I do, Rodney, I do." John stepped forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. That at least was still the same – the electric shock of kissing Rodney was always the same. Rodney kissed him back, a hand going to John's head, pulling him in, Rodney's fingers clutching John to him.

Rodney pulled away way too soon, his breath huffing out in an anguished sigh. "We've got to go, okay?" He searched John's face with his gaze.

John couldn't help it, he had to reach out and touch Rodney. He cupped Rodney's face gently, "Okay."

They ran again, through the dark until they made it to a vehicle; it was standing open and waiting for them. There was a man standing beside it. John came to a stumbling halt when he saw who it was.

"Lorne?"

Lorne broke out in a grin. "Holy fuck, you got him." He stuck out a hand, grabbing John's hand. "It's good to see you."

Lorne pumped his hand while John took in the changes to the kid that had been on his pit crew. There was a little silver around his temples, the skin around his eyes had a few wrinkles, otherwise he looked pretty much unchanged.

John didn't get a chance to say anything more before Rodney shoved him into the vehicle, climbing in behind him. Lorne slammed the door shut behind them. He climbed into the front and they took off.

John slumped in the seat, barely daring to breathe. Rodney pressed up against him, his arms around John, just holding on. John kept waiting for the next thing to happen, but a minute passed and then two.

"Where are we going?" John asked finally.

Rodney didn't seem inclined to let go any time soon, but he loosened his hold on John enough that they could talk.

"We've got to go to my place. I didn't find out about you until the last minute, so I didn't get time to make preparations the way I need to..."

John held up a hand, pushing Rodney a little further away. He couldn't think pressed up against Rodney, breathing in his scent. He needed to think. "Rodney, stop. I need to know what's going on. I just.... Everything's changed. I don't understand anything about this."

Rodney blinked at him, his mouth tilting down in an unhappy frown. "Everything has changed, John, it's 2010."

John stared at him. The words went round and round in John's head and yet they made no sense. Greek. Everyone was speaking Greek today. "An hour ago I was in the fucking Atlantis Grand Prix and it was 1992. And now it's 2010?" Even saying it himself, it didn't make sense.

"It's been 18 years since you hit that wall, John," Lorne said from the front seat.

John stared around at the vehicle in which he found himself. He'd been in some of the most experimental cars in the world. None of them had been as far out as the one he currently found himself in – it was completely enclosed for one thing. There was a screen to his right that might have been a vid screen. There was some sort of computer interface, too, and a whole control panel in the front. The windshield in front of Lorne was completely solid, Lorne was driving by instrumentation.

"I'm in the future?" he mumbled. He felt numb; it was too much to take in. He'd died and his lover had gone on without him. But now he was alive again and he didn't know what to do, what to say.

"Listen to me, John," Rodney's voice was urgent. "We don't have much time. When we hit my place we have to be in and out because that's the first place the bounty hunters are going to look. You died the day of the Atlantis Grand Prix." Rodney's voice broke on the words. He clutched John's arm tightly, as if to convince himself that John was real. "It was like the biggest fucking event of the century. They played that sound bit every day for weeks. It was like I lost a piece of myself every time..."

Rodney sounded so lost. John wrapped his arms around him. "Sh..." he murmured into Rodney's ear. "It's alright, I'm here now."

They clung to one another for a second. Rodney finally pushed John away, shaking his head. "I'll have a nervous breakdown later. Right now you need to hear this in case anything happens to me."

"Rodney, no..." John tried to deny that anything could happen to Rodney. He couldn't bear for anything to happen to Rodney. He would be set alone and adrift in this strange new world.

"John, sh..." It was Rodney's turn to soothe John. He stroked a hand over his cheek, a lingering caress, his eyes misting. "I need to tell you. I was pretty broken after you... died. I didn't know what to do, where to go. Then I met Sam Carter, Sam offered me a job and a direction with Carter Industries. I was working on some Ancient texts that had been found in the old city and I stumbled across the mention of time travel. I decided that I would figure it out. That I would figure out how to get you back."

John stared at Rodney, trying to process the thought that Rodney loved him enough to defy time and space to be with him.

"And I did it, too," Rodney looked smug as hell at bending time to his will. "I was ready to build the prototype and come back and save you, when my research was stolen." He looked away from John, but not before John saw the angry set of his jaw, the glimmer of tears in his eyes. "Some bastard stole my research and turned it over to the spiritual authorities who used it to for their own gains. They go back and steal bodies, John, like vultures and they sell them to the highest bidders."

"But why?" was all John could ask.

Rodney waved vaguely, "You saw the people in the park. Everyone is sick. We don't have an ozone layer anymore; almost everyone has some type of cancer. The air is so polluted you shouldn't breathe it. Most people take drugs to get up in the morning, they take drugs to get through the day, they take drugs to go to sleep at night."

John made a wordless sound of worried enquiry.

Rodney smiled sadly, but shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine, Lorne's fine. We live in protected parts of the city. But the rich have found that they can have eternal life by buying the lives of people who died in the past, people whose bodies are whole and strong. They look for high visibility incidents where they can track the exact time of death and then they pull the body out just before death. That's what the bounty hunters do. Then they turn the bodies over to the Spiritual Authorities. The dying person is loaded into the body by way of a 'spiritual transfer'." Rodney made finger quotes in the air. "They tell us that the person from the past is dead, that they're not aware of what's happening. But I think we can see the truth of that."

"So, someone from the future bought me?" John shivered, thinking that if he hadn't escaped he wouldn't be John Sheppard anymore.

Rodney nodded. "Your death was so public and highly publicized; I knew it was only a matter of time before they came for you. I managed to hack into their system. I couldn't do anything for the other poor bastards they brought over, but I wasn't going to let them get you. I came as soon as I found out about it tonight." Rodney smoothed a hand down John's arm. "I still can't believe you're here. I've thought about you as dead for so long..."

John grabbed Rodney's hand, pressing it to his chest over his heart. "I'm here, Rodney, I'm alive."

Rodney smiled then. Rodney's smile was so brilliant and joyful; John fell in love all over again. "I know." Rodney leaned in and kissed John. John kissed him back trying to convey how much he loved Rodney, how much he trusted him, how much he wanted him into the kiss.

"Hey," Lorne called from the front seat, interrupting them, "I hate to break up this reunion, but we're here. It looks quiet enough for now, but you need to get in and out quick."

Rodney pulled away, breathing hard. "I'll be quick," he promised.

John caught his hand. "Oh, no, you don't. The last time I said goodbye to you I died. I'm not doing that again."

Rodney didn't waste time arguing with him, he just tugged John after him. "Keep the motor running," he said to Lorne. "We'll be right back."

Time travel. John just couldn't get his head around it. He'd lost 18 years just like that. He was brought here to be the... body for someone else's mind. He could feel the scream that threatened to bubble up, he stuffed it back down ruthlessly. If they got through this, he could spend 20 minutes doing nothing but screaming. If not, well then he wouldn't be in any shape to worry about it anymore.

He followed Rodney as they went through the door into an upscale building. It was surreal that there was a man in a doorman's uniform that opened the door for Rodney.

"Evening, Dr. McKay," the man said, polite and cordial.

"Evening, Frank. Quiet night?" Rodney asked. It seemed that there was more to the question than just the words.

"So far," Frank answered with a tip of his cap.

The building they entered was all dark wood and expensive furniture. John thought about the crappy apartment that he and Rodney had woken up in that... morning. One bedroom with furniture they found at flea markets and thrift stores. Their one big expenditure had been Rodney's prescription mattress. It was so comfortable that John never complained about the cost. Now... John swallowed at the thought of how much a place in the building would cost.

It hit him that Rodney was someone important. He probably had friends that John had never met, a job where people would depend on him for guidance and their livelihood. He had a whole life that didn't include John.

Rodney headed for a bank of elevators. John caught his arm.

"No elevators, it would be too easy to trap us inside one of those."

Rodney snorted. "John, I live on the 35th floor."

"Oh," the doors opened and John waved. "The elevator then."

Rodney grinned widely, stepping past John into the elevator car, "I thought you'd see it my way."

The elevator was as impressive as the lobby had been. Its walls were mirrored – they were dark and polished with a gold vein running throughout. John could see their reflection and it was brought home to him again how much Rodney had changed. John still looked the same as the face he'd seen in his mirror that morning – floppy hair, tall and gangly. But Rodney had changed in so many ways. Well, except for the most important ones – his eyes were still blue and his mouth still tilted down to the side when he was unhappy. Like it was now.

John didn't want to be the cause of Rodney's unhappiness. What if there was someone in his life that Rodney was leaving behind. Did John have the right to ask that of him?

"Listen, Rodney," John started, staring straight ahead into their reflections, "you don't have to come with me... "

"What?"

John didn't want to do this, it was too damn hard. But he had to. All he'd ever wanted was for Rodney to be happy. John couldn't ask him to give up his life. "I mean, I'll be alright if you just point me in a direction. If there's someone I mean..." John trailed off at the anger on Rodney's face.

"Shut up. Just shut up," Rodney snapped. "I'm going to give you a pass on this one because I know it's got to be a shock to find out that your lover is 18 years older, but unless you want me to leave, I am not letting you walk out of here by yourself, John Sheppard. I didn't work for nearly 20 years to get you back only to walk away from you in the end." Rodney was red faced and huffing in his indignation, hands on his hips.

"Hey, Rodney, hey, I'm sorry. I just didn't know if maybe you'd found someone else in the last 20 years. I can't expect you to have waited for me all this time."

Rodney pushed John up against the wall, molding their bodies together. "You are the love of my life, okay? I tried to find someone else, because I knew you'd have a shit fit if you thought I'd spent my life mourning you. But none of them were you, okay? You happy? I just couldn't find anyone else who made me as happy as you." Rodney buried his face in the crook of John's neck just breathing him in.

John brought his arms up and pulled Rodney close. "Hey," he whispered into Rodney's ears, "I'm betting that I wouldn't have been able to find anyone to replace you either."

Rodney pressed a kiss to John's neck, then pushed himself away. "You better not."

The elevator dinged their arrival at the 35th floor opening quietly and efficiently.

They both stood, unsure what to expect on the other side. After a couple of seconds when they didn't leave, the doors started to close. Rodney gave a huff and exited, John following close behind him.

If he'd thought the lobby was impressive, it had nothing on the hallway. The carpet was thick and luxurious, the walls didn't have wall paper on them, there was actual fabric on the wall along with tasteful pictures placed artfully.

"Geeze, Rodney, ostentatious much?" John smiled at him so Rodney would know that he was teasing. Actually he was glad to see that Rodney had done so well for himself.

"Well, when you work at Carter industries you have a reputation to maintain. You can't just live in some old flea-ridden dive and expect people to take you seriously." It sounded like Rodney was quoting someone.

They reached a door at the end of the hallway. Rodney pressed his palm against a panel beside the door. It slid open.

"Biometric locks," Rodney responded at John's curious glance.

John swallowed and nodded. He followed Rodney into the apartment, not sure what he was expecting – more ostentatious furniture maybe? Something in all white and cream?

He was surprised to find that the place was completely Rodney McKay. The furniture was expensive, but it was comfortable. There was a bag of some kind of chips stuffed in the cushions of the couch. The no-doubt expensive tables in the living room were scattered with journals. The bookshelves were also packed with journals and scholarly-looking books, in amongst them were scattered well-worn paperbacks. John wished he had time to look through them and see what he'd missed in the last 18 years.

What really caught his eye though was the wall-sized screen that was obviously a TV.

"Oh my god," John whispered in awe.

Rodney looked up from the table where he was digging through a stack of papers, stuffing some into a bag and shoving others onto the floor. "Oh, yeah," he grinned. "You should see the games we could play on that. Not today though." He slammed the lid on a slim machine that he thrust into the bag along with the papers.

"You ready?" Rodney asked.

"Just a sec." John couldn't help himself. He had to see the bedroom.

He took a guess and headed for a door. It opened on the biggest bedroom that John had ever seen. The bed in the middle of the space looked like typical 'I'm just going to mess it up again tonight so why make it' McKay. The sheets were strewn every which way and the comforter was completely off the bed on the floor. One wall held Rodney's diplomas and awards, it was full. Another wall had only a single picture on it. John moved in to see it closer. He was surprised that he knew where the shot came from.

"This is..." he took the picture off the wall. It was John and Rodney. Rodney had a slight flush, John was grinning madly.

"That was the one that was taken the day of the race," Rodney confirmed. "You ready? Lorne says we need to go now." Rodney gestured to a small radio in his ear that John hadn't noticed before.

John handed Rodney the photo. He stuffed it into his bag. John grabbed Rodney's hand, dragging him from the apartment. "You're not leaving behind a cat or anything are you?"

"My neighbor knows if I disappear mysteriously to take care of him."

John stopped, regarding Rodney.

Rodney shrugged. "Boxer has a delicate disposition. He'd never survive a life on the run."

Rodney tugged John's hand when John headed back to the bank of elevators. "We can't take the main elevator down; those will be covered by now."

John followed easily. He'd trusted Rodney this far, he couldn't very well stop now. "Boxer?"

Rodney scowled. They reached the end of the hallway. There was another smaller elevator there. It looked like a service elevator, or maybe something the staff might use. It was the type of building that would require the staff to use a separate elevator from the tenants. Rodney took a small key out of his pocket. He inserted it in a slot below the call button as he pressed it.

"I found a whole litter of kittens in a box outside the building. Boxer is the only one that survived." Rodney shrugged. "He kept me company. I'll miss him," he admitted.

John stepped up close behind him, wrapping his arms around him. "We'll find a way to come back for him. Your neighbor will only be cat sitting for awhile."

Rodney leaned back into John for a second. "Sure," he said.

The elevator doors opened. It was a lot smaller than the one they'd come up in. So, the staff elevator.

"This one will let us out in the garage. Lorne will meet us down there."

John had a prickling along his spine, but he didn't say anything, he couldn't, he didn't have any idea of what was really going on. He just had a bad feeling.

They rode down in silence. John had so many questions he didn't know where to start. He knew the only thing that was important, Rodney was with him, Rodney loved him. He twined his fingers with Rodney's. Rodney squeezed his hand, smiling at him, trying for reassuring.

The door dinged and slid open. Through the opening they could see the dimness of a parking garage, that hadn't changed much in 18 years. There was a car waiting, its door standing open. Lorne was nowhere in sight.

Rodney stopped.

"Oh, shit," was his succinct observation.

"Yeah," John agreed. He took a step forward out of the elevator.

"Koyla," he called, his voice echoed around the garage.

"Very good." The big guy stepped out from behind the car, his gun drawn.

"What did you do with Lorne?" Rodney demanded. He stopped at John's side.

Koyla shrugged. "Didn't see him. Maybe he figured out that you were on the losing team and he cut his losses." He casually thumbed the safety on his weapon, making sure John knew it was off.

"I thought you weren't supposed to damage the merchandise?" John couldn't help the taunt.

"Nah, that's the doctor. I can do a reasonable amount of damage and still get the bounty. So get in the car." The threat of damage was implicit.

John and Rodney shared a frustrated look. They were out of choices. John leaned in and kissed Rodney. He didn't want to think of it as goodbye, but he couldn't think of anything else to do.

"Isn't this so sweet," Koyla sneered. "A last kiss goodbye. " He nudged John with his weapon. "Just get in the vehicle." His attention was completely on the two men so he missed it when Lorne barreled out of the darkness, tackling Koyla around the waist. The two of them rolled into the shadows.

John dove into the waiting vehicle. "Get in," he shouted at Rodney.

"What about Lorne?" Rodney stared anxiously at where Koyla had Lorne down on the ground, a fist pounding away at his face.

"Get in the fucking car, Rodney," John snarled.

Rodney did it, but not happily. John punched the controls in front of him. A vid screen appeared that showed the rear of the vehicle. Koyla was standing over Lorne, his weapon trained on the downed man. John focused on the controls. They hadn't changed that much in 18 years. He slammed the vehicle into reverse and applied some gas.

The vehicle responded by backing up straight into Koyla throwing him across the garage.

John adjusted his trajectory and applied some gas. They moved smoothly into place next to Lorne. Rodney leaned out of the open door and gave the other man a hand, pulling him into the vehicle. He reached over Lorne to slam the door closed once Lorne was completely inside.

"Go," Rodney shouted. On the vid screen John could see that Koyla was getting up. He had his weapon trained on them. He tapped his ear, and John could only think that he was calling for backup. They were only going to get one chance to escape. Koyla wouldn't underestimate them again. He slammed his foot onto the gas. They shot away as Koyla brought up his weapon. He fired, but they were moving away too fast.

John thrilled to feel of the vehicle. It almost felt like it was responding to his thoughts.

"John, slow down," Rodney shouted from the back seat. "We're in a parking garage. You're going to kill someone. Probably us."

"Never tell me to slow down," John gave the vehicle more gas, it responded smoothly. There was a heads up display that was laid over the front screen. It showed him the schematics of the garage, it highlighted the people, it showed him a route to the nearest exit, but there was a notation that the exit was blocked, all the exits were blocked. John wondered where they were in the city, and the map widened to show John his position relative to the city, it showed him the streets around them and the traffic he could expect.

"It's reading my mind," John exclaimed.

"No shit," Rodney crawled over the seat to join John in the front. Lorne was lying across the back seat. It wasn't really willingly, but John knew from past experience, you just didn't argue with Rodney McKay when he was in 'let me take care of you' mode.

"How's Lorne?" John asked. There were lots of people outside the garage, but theirs was the only vehicle moving inside. He had the whole run of the garage. The vehicle handled the curves smoothly as they made their way to the roof top.

"He'll live," Lorne answered for himself from the back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Rodney scowled at the display in front of him taking in the fact that every exit was sealed, probably with Koyla's goons or the Spiritual Authorities waiting for them. "We're trapped."

They emerged onto the rooftop. There was the bare beginning of dawn showing on the horizon, a thin sliver of light. It was more a suggestion of dawn than anything else.

"John, what are you doing?" Rodney asked suspiciously.

John grinned at him. "Finding us an escape route."

This early in the day the roof was completely deserted. He backed the vehicle as far as he could against the wall behind them. He gunned the vehicle once or twice, getting a feel for it.

"John, you're going to kill us," Rodney shrieked.

"Nah," John drawled, enjoying himself for the first time since finding himself in the future. He was at the wheel, he had Rodney next to him. It was all he needed. He felt hope surging through his veins. He didn't know how they were going to do it, but they were going to escape. They were going to be together.

"It's only a few feet to the street over that wall," he nodded to indicate the wall they were facing. "There's no traffic down there right now, this thing is built like a tank. We'll make it." He looked over at Rodney, not for permission, but for... acknowledgement.

Rodney threw up his hands. "Oh, go ahead, you're going to do it anyway."

John threw a glance back at Lorne, "Hold on back there." He leaned over, pulling Rodney to him, pressing a kiss to his lips. "For luck," he said.

"Oh, sure, luck's going to cushion our landing," Rodney muttered but kissing John back. He fastened the safety restraint while Lorne did the same thing in the back.

"Here goes nothing," John said. He pressed on the gas and the brake pedal at the same time. "Five, four, three, two, one," he counted down to himself seeing the lights of the FI in his mind's eye. He eased his foot off the brake and the vehicle shot forward like it had been shot out of a cannon.

They approached the wall and John had only a second to think 'this is going to hurt' when they were hurtling through the wall. They had enough momentum that they didn't immediately fall nose first and crash into the street below. They sailed the necessary few feet to land on the street two stories below on all four wheels. The car shook but it held. John felt like all of his bones had been ground together, but once he was sure they were all alive, he applied pressure to the gas and they shot away, up the empty street.

They passed an exit to the garage. The window next to Rodney cleared to glass so Rodney could wave at the line of cars.

"Oh, my god, I can't believe you did that," Rodney breathed. He looked over at John; a smile breaking out over his face. "I can't believe you did that," he repeated.

"Hey," John eased into the feel of the vehicle. It was mostly a brute, built to protect its occupants, but it had a few elegant touches. John loved the ease with which it responded to his every thought. He'd known they were working on integrating Ancient technology into everyday items, but this was awesome. "I always knew how to show you a good time," he grinned over at Rodney. He held out his hand, Rodney took it twining their fingers together. "Where to?" he asked.

"We need to go to the café," Lorne answered from the back seat. "That's where you're supposed to meet your contact that's going to get you both out of the city. And for the record, you're both bugfuck crazy. Just thought you should know."

John ignored him. "Café?" he asked.

Rodney nodded. "It's this little hole in the wall place where I meet this guy. He's going to get us out of the city. We still won't be safe, but we'll be safer."

John rolled his head to see Rodney, it wasn't like he had to keep an eye on the road, the car was doing a fine job of that all on its own. "Rodney, are we ever going to be safe?" he asked softly.

Rodney's smile disappeared into an unhappy frown. "I'm working on it."

John didn't push it. "Alright let's go to the café, I'm starving."

~~~~~

The café it turned out was in the old part of the city where you could still see the elegance the city once had 10,000 years before. Before humans had shown up and started mucking the place up. The grandeur was fading with use. There was graffiti sprawled on the walls and the beautiful stained glass windows had been broken and boarded over.

John looked over at Rodney as they stood outside. "You always bring me to the best places."

Rodney scowled at him, pulling John inside behind him.

The establishment wasn't so much a café as it was a dive where the desperate masses went hoping to find their latest hook up or fix or maybe both. Rodney deposited John at the bar with the admonishment, "Don't eat anything here. We'll get something as soon as I'm done here." He walked over to sit down at a table in a corner. John watched as an older guy took a seat opposite him. He had the hard unyielding look of ex-military about him.

John turned to take in the place. Dawn was beginning to claim the city, so a lot of the denizens had gone to where ever it was they went to sleep away the day. The little place wasn't nearly as full as it could be. There were vid screens set into the walls, dozens of them all on different channels. It gave a dizzying view of the day's events all over the world. John watched with an idle eye, keeping the other one on Rodney. He was gesturing emphatically, rolling his eyes for punctuation. John didn't like leaving this to Rodney, but this was his world. John had to trust him to know what was best.

"You gonna drink, buddy?" the bartender asked. John turned. The seedy looking guy was eyeing him with suspicion. "I don't want no trouble here."

John glanced over at Rodney. He was deep in discussion with his contact, their heads close together.

John shrugged at the bartender who was watching John like he was trying to decide if he should call the authorities. Rodney had said not to eat anything. But, "I'll have a beer," he said at last. A beer couldn't be bad. What could you do to beer?

When it arrived, the color wasn't quite right, but it smelled like beer. After the day he'd had, John thought that he deserved a beer. He didn't even get to finish the race. This was the race he was going to win. He was going to ask Rodney to marry him after the race. They couldn't get married in the states, but they could do it in Canada. John had checked. He'd bought a ring and everything. God. In everything that happened, he'd forgotten that he'd tucked it into his pocket before the race, kind of as a good luck talisman. He took a pull of the beer, letting it slide down his throat.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket. It wasn't anything special, just a silver band with their names inside. He couldn't even imagine what had made him buy it in the first place. Oh, yeah, he was in love with Rodney McKay. He glanced over at Rodney's corner again. The contact had leaned back in his chair; he was all bulk, with no extra fat on him at all. John took another drink from his beer, snapping the lid shut on the ring, shoving it back into a pocket.

A woman was going through the bar; she held a microphone in one hand, a cameraman followed along behind her. They stopped to interview the occasional patron of the dive. Some late night show on-the-spot reporter, John thought. Or, as the sun began to fill the café, maybe she was an early morning show on-the-spot reporter. Cheesy television. Some things never changed.

John began to drowse on his stool. It had been a long day and an even longer night of running for his life. It was all starting to catch up with him.

He jerked his eyes open to discover the woman with the microphone standing in front of him, the camera was trained on him. Its little red light was on, indicating they were broadcasting.

"This is Katie Brown reporter on the street, finding all the news worth reporting. I'm here with..." She held out the microphone for John to supply his name.

The walls around John were beginning to acquire a pink hue and sparkles were everywhere. He knew he was in trouble when the woman's eyes widened impossibly large. "Oh, my god," she breathed. "You're John Sheppard."

She had more lines on her face and her hair was a little less bright red, but John knew her. "Katie Brown," he lurched forward, his limbs uncooperative. He felt love for her. He felt love for the whole place. It was a great place. "Good to see you." He whispered in her ear. "Did you know that it's 18 years in the future?"

Katie gulped, holding up much of his weight.

All of a sudden John wanted nothing more than to sleep for about a week.

"Are you getting this?" she gestured at her cameraman.

"This is Katie Brown reporting from The Café in the old city," she said. Her arm around John's waist was the only thing holding him up. "I am here with the runner John Sheppard. He was lost earlier tonight in an attempt to retrieve him from the past. We thought we'd never see him again. Tell me, John, what do you think of the future?" She smiled at him brightly.

John realized that his face was now reflected on all the screens scattered around the bar. "Holy shit, Katie, what have you done?"

"How do you feel knowing that you've been bought to provide the body for one of the city's leading citizens?"

John pushed himself away, almost falling to his knees in the process. "I'm not going to just roll over and let someone else have my body. You tell them that," he shouted. "I'm me," he pointed his finger into her chest. "You tell them that."

Rodney was there then, picking John up off the floor. He wasn't sure when he'd ended up down there. "Shit, Rodney, it's Katie Brown. Did you see her?"

Rodney pulled John toward the door. "Yeah," he said. "I saw her. Now we need to get out of here. Before any of these good people try something stupid."

It was early enough that most of the bar's patrons were too drunk or high to really take advantage of the fact that the John Sheppard with the five million dollar bounty was in their midst. As they made their way from the door to the waiting vehicle John could see a huge vid screen that floated in the center of the city. It could literally be seen for blocks. John's face was on it.

"Hey, Rodney," John pointed, "I'm famous."

Rodney looked up. "Oh, shit," he said before stuffing John into the vehicle.

"Do I get to drive?" John tried to climb over the seat to displace Lorne in the driver's seat.

"No, John, Lorne's going to drive this time. You stay back here with me." Rodney pulled on John getting him settled as Lorne set the vehicle into motion.

John pouted, "You never let me have any fun." John made himself comfortable with his head on Rodney's shoulder. If he couldn't drive, he might as well be comfortable.

"Right," Rodney pushed John away, peering into his eyes. "I just live to make your life miserable. What did you have back there?"

John had to think hard what Rodney was talking about. "Have? Oh, the bar. I had a beer."

Rodney moved away. "Okay, first of all, I told you not to have anything in there."

"You told me not to eat anything." John protested. He leaned in close to whisper in Rodney's ear, "It was just a beer. I think they were going to throw me out if I didn't get a drink."

Rodney blew out a frustrated breath. "Nothing is 'just' anything anymore. There was probably at least half a dozen other things in your beer. Now you're going to have to sleep it off."

"Sleep?" John leered at Rodney. "Sleeping's not what I want to do." John reached for the button on Rodney's pants.

Rodney caught his hands with a put upon sigh. "Oh, god, I remember how you are when you're drunk."

"Oh, come on, Rodney, don't be like that, it's been 18 years."

Rodney scowled at John, "Oh, please it was this morning for you. It's been 18 years for me."

Even through his drink fuddled brain John caught what Rodney said. "Shit, Rodney, you didn't..." John made a vaguely obscene gesture in Rodney's direction.

"It's not like I didn't want to," Rodney snapped. "It's just that none of them were you."

"Rodney..." John didn't know what to say, even if he hadn't been drunk he wouldn't have known what to say. He settled for pulling Rodney to him. "Me, too," he said.

"What does that even mean?" Rodney pulled back to fully direct his scowl at John, but he had already fallen asleep, his head falling forward to rest on Rodney's shoulder.

~~~~~~

It was dark when John woke up. John was just as glad because the dim light in the room was enough to spike the mother of all hangovers. He groaned falling back into the pillows. Rodney stirred beside him, pushing himself up on one elbow.

"John?"

John swallowed down the bile that threatened to make an appearance. He didn't remember ever partying this hard after a race.

"You would not believe the dream I had," John whispered, just that small sound causing his headache to flair.

Rodney rolled out of their bed. John could hear him as he moved around the room. There was the sound of the medicine cabinet opening, then water running. The bed dipped when Rodney returned. His fingers carding through John's hair were careful and gentle. It was so soothing John pushed his head into Rodney's fingers loving the feel. The headache receded a little.

"Take these, they'll help," Rodney said, his voice at its lowest modulation. It made John smile that Rodney was taking care of him.

There was a finger on his lips. John opened enough that Rodney could deposit a couple of pills on his tongue; John recognized the bitter taste of aspirin. Rodney wrapped an arm around John's shoulder and lifted until he could hold a cup to John's lips. John swallowed. The water was cool and sweet. He lowered John back to the pillows.

"Better?" Rodney pressed a kiss to John's forehead. He continued carding his fingers through John's hair.

"Rodney," John's voice was a pathetic rasp. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Did I at least win the race? If I'm going to feel this bad, I'd better have won the race."

"John..." There was just something about Rodney's voice, some quality of fear that John had never heard before. There was something that Rodney didn't want to tell him.

That was when John remembered the crash, seeing the wall coming toward him so fast there was nothing he could do.

John threw up. It was mostly over the side of the bed.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned leaning over the bed. He was pretty sure he was going to expel his internal organs. "What was in that shit?"

"I told you not to have anything in there," Rodney said in his most irritating "I told you so" voice.

"Gonna puke on your shoes," John threatened. He almost cried when Rodney disappeared from his side, but he was back quickly with a cool, wet cloth that he used to wipe John's face. After an eternity where John threw up everything he'd eaten for the last two weeks and most of his major organs, he was able to lie back weakly.

"Here." The cup was at John's lips again along with two more aspirin since he'd thrown up the first two. "Drink," Rodney instructed after he'd swallowed the pills. "Swish it around your mouth and spit it out." It did help a little.

"Kill me," John begged.

"Don't even joke about that," Rodney growled. His tenderness in wiping down John's face belied his rough tone.

"Sorry." John caught Rodney's hand, kissing the palm. "I fucked up, sorry."

"No, it's not really your fault. I shouldn't have left you alone. You have no idea what you're facing here. And I don't know how to make it easier for you."

John shut his eyes trying not to imagine what his life would be like without Rodney McKay. It wouldn't be any fun that was for sure. It wasn't a life that John wanted to live.

"Just be there," John whispered harshly. "We'll figure the rest out as we go. It's worked for us so far."

There was a heavy pause as Rodney worked himself up to something. John wasn't going to like it, of that he was certain.

"That was 18 years ago. Things have changed so much, I've changed so much. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to be with someone else."

John's eyes shot open. It was too fast and the light of a small lamp that Rodney had turned on made him groan. He threw his arm up to shield his eyes. He caught Rodney's hand, pulling him close.

"Rodney, I don't want anyone but you." Rodney met his gaze, but John saw the doubt in his eyes.

"I've changed, John, I know that. I'm not as flexible anymore."

John nudged Rodney with his hip, "I am. Wanna see how flexible I can be?"

Rodney rolled his eyes, cupping John's cheek affectionately. "Like you're really up to something athletic after you've puked up your socks."

"Point." Rodney started to move away, John caught his arm and pulled him back. "Rodney, I'm serious. I love you." John didn't say it often, it seemed important that he say it now. "I don't want to trade you in for a new model; you're perfect just like you are."

John pushed himself up. He was beginning to feel better, maybe it was the aspirin, maybe it was throwing up his internal organs. He regarded Rodney, just studying him silently. After a couple of seconds, Rodney squirmed under John's intense stare, but he stayed where he was, letting John look his fill, see the changes that time had made in Rodney.

John leaned forward, running his fingers though Rodney's hair. It was thinning and his hairline was receding. He kissed Rodney's forehead.

"I love your mind. Anyone else would have just given up on me. If you hadn't been there to attack that convoy that took me, I would be someone else right now."

John slipped his hands down and pulled up the shirt that Rodney was wearing. Rodney lifted his arms so John could pull it over his head. Once the shirt was gone, there was the expanse of Rodney's skin there for him to explore.

John ran his hands down Rodney's chest. It was broader now, more muscled. John leaned in to kiss along the line of Rodney's chest. "I love your chest. I could play here all night and not get tired. There's so much strength here."

Rodney moaned when John took a nipple in his mouth, laving it roughly with his tongue.

"Fuck, John," Rodney squirmed. John could see the hard line of Rodney's cock through the thin boxers he was wearing.

"Oh, we'll get there," John assured him, moving to the other nipple. "We'll get there."

Rodney arched under John, trying to get more sensation. It was only one of the many things John loved about Rodney. He was the most responsive lover John had ever had.

John surged up and caught Rodney's mouth. "I love your mouth," he tried to say into Rodney's mouth, but it was lost in their kiss. He thought Rodney got it anyway. Rodney was a genius after all.

Rodney fell back into the pillows, pulling John with him gently. They kissed for what felt like forever and yet not nearly long enough.

John's stomach gave a violent heave. He shoved Rodney away, throwing himself over the edge of the bed to heave again.

"You are such a romantic," Rodney's caustic words were belied by the gentle rubbing on John's back soothing him through the violent upheavals.

"Really, Rodney," he spat out between bouts of heaving. "Kill me now."

Rodney just held on to him. Once the puking slowed down, he pulled John into the bathroom. He undressed him and shoved him into the shower.

"Rodney?" John called after him.

"I have to make a call," Rodney answered. He poked his head inside the shower, kissing John on the forehead. "I left you a toothbrush. Brush your teeth or I am never kissing you again."

By the time he finished showering, John felt marginally better. His stomach finally settled. He came out of the bathroom, pulling on the sweats Rodney had left for him there. They were an old pair of John's. He wore them to run in.

He wanted to ask Rodney if he'd kept all of his things, but the pain in Rodney's eyes when he saw John wearing the faded sweats convinced John not to speak. Yes, John was alive. But Rodney had 18 years of knowing John was dead to get over. It wasn't going to happen overnight.

Rodney was sitting at a table downing a cup of coffee. There was another steaming cup sitting at the place beside him.

John sat, inhaling the fragrant brew. "Mine?" he asked. It was always wise to ask. He'd seen Rodney nearly fork someone who dared to take his coffee.

Rodney nodded absently.

John took a long drink. It was the good stuff. He looked around at their refuge. It had the look of a warehouse or factory – someplace that had been deserted a long time.

"What's next?" he asked.

Rodney shook his head. "We're not really safe. We're never going to be safe. The current contract on you is only three days."

John lifted a brow indicating that he didn't have any idea what Rodney was talking about. Rodney huffed. He took a deep drink of his own coffee.

"Okay," he said, his tone that of lecturing the more stupid of their crew, his minions as he liked to call them, "When a person dies physically they can store themselves, their essence, their 'soul' if you will in the database with the spiritual authority if they have enough money and clout, it's called the switchboard. But that's only a stop gap measure at best. After three days their imprint will degrade and they'll die finally and completely."

It sounded like so much voodoo to John, but he nodded.

Rodney took a deep breath. "We have technology found in the old city to put their essence into a new body within that three days period, except, as you've seen, people aren't particularly healthy these days, even if the spiritual authorities were willing to let them use the bodies of citizens. There's been a lot of debate about that." Rodney shrugged. "But once I came up with the means for them to pull people from the past, that was all taken care of. They just started taking people from the past and used their bodies."

"But didn't anyone ask if those people were still alive?"

"There are some human rights groups that have posed those questions, but mostly they're ignored. No one wants to know the answers to those questions. If you've died and you want a new body, most people don't care if there's already a resident in the body when they're shoved inside. The new imprinting gets rid of the first inhabitant anyway."

John couldn't breathe, his fingers were suddenly nerveless. His cup fell to the floor, shattering, the coffee spread across the floor. He found himself wrapped in strong arms.

"We'll figure it out," Rodney whispered fiercely. "Nobody gets you but me."

John nodded, breathing in Rodney's surety.

"We need to call my boss, Sam Carter. Sam can help us. Sam has money and connections and can figure a way out of this mess."

John clung to Rodney, concentrating on breathing in and out.

~~~~~

Sam Carter as it turned out was a woman. Her eyes on Rodney, even through the vid, were possessive. It set John's teeth on edge.

She sat at her desk, comfortable in her power, listening while Rodney explained the situation. When he was finished, she leaned forward, folding her hands together thoughtfully.

"I wondered what had happened to you the last couple of days, then when I heard on the news about Sheppard, I had a pretty good idea that you would be at his side." She turned her eyes to take in John – her gaze frank and assessing.

"I have to be honest, Rodney, I don't know if there's much I can do." She held up a hand to forestall his immediate and passionate response. "But I'll see what I can do." She leaned back in her chair, her brow wrinkled in pensive thought. "Why don't you come here to headquarters? I'll be able to protect you both better here. We can just wait 24 hours until the current buyer," she coughed delicately, "expires. I'm sure there will be others for such excellent merchandise," her eyes ran up and down the line of John's body. He shifted uncomfortably, "but this will buy us some time to decide what to do."

Rodney slumped in relief. "I don't know how to thank you, Sam," he began.

She waved him off. "Rodney, there's no need for that. You and I have been friends for years now. You know I'll do whatever I can to help you out here."

He nodded. "Thank you," he said.

~~~~~

It was too quiet. That was all John could think. Koyla had been flat out hounding them and then suddenly he gave up. It left him feeling that something was up; it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"It's too quiet," he said to Rodney.

They were in the back of Rodney's vehicle. Lorne was driving again. John didn't know where he'd gone while they'd been in the safe house; he didn't feel it was his business to know if Lorne didn't share. He just showed up at their front door when Rodney was ready to leave.

Rodney nodded his agreement. "Koyla's the best in the business. It would look bad for him if you escaped, so I don't know what's up." He hugged John to him. "Soon he won't be able to touch you though. Sam will take care of us." Rodney's tone held absolute belief.

"How well do you know her, Rodney?" John tried to phrase his question tactfully, but Rodney heard his true question.

"We can trust her, John," Rodney said firmly.

John dropped it, not convinced, but not willing to argue with Rodney with nothing but his feelings to go on.

~~~~~

Carter Corporation was housed in a high rise downtown. John craned his neck back to look up as the building rose high over their head, blocking the sun. Its mirrored glass windows reflected back at him, it made him feel like a thousand eyes were watching them. The street was quiet, there were only a few people out, none looked like they were likely to fall on John and drag him away. He kept a close eye on them anyway.

"This where you work?" he asked as he and Rodney approached the door. There was nothing about the place that looked suspicious, and that made John even more suspicious.

"I have an office here," Rodney answered vaguely. He was craning his head around watching the street they'd just come down. John figured he was just as suspicious of how quiet things were as he was. He took Rodney's hand.

"Good luck," Lorne called to them as they entered through the glass doors.

"Morning, Dr. McKay," the guard at the front desk greeted them with a tilt of his head.

"Morning," Rodney answered the man absently, not really paying attention as he tried to keep an eye on everything around him at once.

"Relax." John squeezed his fingers. "We're in Carter Corp now, right? Carter wouldn't let anything happen to us in her lobby, would she?" If Rodney trusted her, John was determined to do likewise.

Rodney gave him a weak smile, "Sure, you're right." He tugged John over to the bank of elevators where he pushed the button to call their ride.

They stood quietly, just holding hands as they waited for a car. It came quickly and efficiently.

As they entered the elevator car, Rodney took a quick breath before pushing a button – 50 – it was the last number on the pad. The doors slid closed. There was no going back now.

The quiet was getting to John. Rodney just wasn't quiet; the constant barrage of words was part of what John loved about Rodney. "Tell me about Carter," he said when they hit the fifth floor and it became apparent that Rodney wasn't going to say anything.

"She's great," Rodney enthused. "Radek convinced me to call her after you..." he gulped, "died. She gave me a job, practically told me to do whatever made me happy. I've been here 15 years now. I've done a lot of work on Ancient technology, but also some government contracts, whatever Sam needs really."

The elevator was very fast; it dinged as they arrived at their floor. Rodney stepped out quickly, almost eagerly, releasing John's hand as he did so. John stood inside the elevator, feeling like he was saying goodbye to Rodney somehow.

Rodney turned around with a frown, "Well, are you coming?" He beckoned to John impatiently.

John stepped out into another overly done plush hallway. Maybe whoever was the designer of Rodney's building also did this building. The walls were all dark, hard wood. The carpet was dark, too. It gave the whole place a feel of gloom that just added to John's feeling of dread. He did his best to ignore it as he followed Rodney down the hall.

Rodney went straight to the corner office, shoving open the double doors they found there.

One entire wall was a bank of windows overlooking the city. Even though he'd seen the dirt and the poverty on the ground, from the 50th floor everything looked green and beautiful. Underneath a window on the other wall was the biggest desk John had ever seen. Carter was obviously trying to overcompensate for something.

The woman sitting behind the desk was blonde and pretty in a soft rounded way. She looked up as they entered. When her eyes settled on Rodney, they lit up in a possessive sort of way that caused all of John's defenses to go up again.

"Rodney!" she called, a smile lighting up her face. "The lobby called to say you were on your way up. Did you have any trouble getting here?" She glanced over at John, her gaze swept over him in a cursory way as if he weren't important at all. John hung by the door, although a quick getaway was going to be kind of hard from the 50th floor.

Rodney moved to perch on the edge of her desk. "We didn't see any sign of Koyla. It's kind of weird, him giving up like that."

She shrugged artfully. "Who knows why hunters do what they do? Maybe the buyer didn't make it the full three days in storage? He's not going to take a worthless husk into possession. Although this one," her eyes swept over John again, calculating, "would fetch a good price if he were put up for auction."

"Which he's not," Rodney said firmly, frowning at Carter. It reassured John a little.

Carter smiled at him. "Of course not, Rodney. I didn't mean to imply anything like that would happen. Mr. Sheppard," she rose from her seat gesturing at the chair next to her desk. "I'm so glad to meet you. It seems like Rodney's done nothing but talk about you the entire fifteen years I've known him."

John didn't want to go any further into that office, but he didn't want to be rude to this woman who was helping them either. He crossed the million miles or so of gaping space between the door and her desk.

"Thank you for your help, ma'am." He didn't sit.

She smiled at him, it was different than the one she used on Rodney, it had more teeth. "I would do anything for Rodney. You know it's kind of funny, but I've actually known him longer than you two were together. You were together what?" She regarded him, her head cocked curiously. He felt like a gazelle just before the lion pounced.

"A couple of years."

"Wow, two years and he loves you to this day. That's devotion you don't see very often." She turned to Rodney, "Rodney, would you do me a favor and check in with the labs? They've been yelling for hours now that there's some sort of emergency only you can deal with. Something about the whole place coming down around our ears." She shrugged as if to say 'what are you going to do?'

Rodney shot John a panicked look. John smiled.

"What can happen to me here, Rodney?" He wanted to believe it.

Rodney nodded. "Okay, I'll go down and check in. I'll get things shut down, I don't know how long before I'll be able to return." He shifted irresolutely between John and Carter.

"Shoo," she said with a flap of her hands. She sat back in her chair, looking every inch a queen in her domain. "I'll take care of your John. We'll get to know one another, decide how best to deal with this situation."

The way she said it, John just knew. He didn't say anything because he wanted Rodney out of the office. There was absolutely nothing Rodney could do. They were on the 50th floor of the building; they weren't going to get out unless they could fly.

John smiled at Rodney, "Go on, it'll be okay," he did his best to sound like he meant it.

As soon as the door shut behind Rodney, John whirled on her. "It was you."

Her shark's smile grew at his accusation. "Well of course," she said. "There's no one else that's going to pay five million dollars for you." She called out to the air. "You can come in now."

A door opened in the wall opposite them. John hadn't even known it was there. Koyla stood there, his weapon pointed straight at John.

Carter stood, smoothing her expensive power suite, "If you will accompany us, John. I can call you John, can't you?" she purred. "We're going to be so much closer soon." She got out of her chair and circled around him. Never quite touching. John reached out to stop her, his hand passed through her body, although there was a slight distortion of the image where his hand went through her.

"Shit." He was never going to get used to this. "You're... you're...." he had no idea what she was, but he knew it wasn't normal to be able to put your hand through a person.

"I'm dead, yes." She took a step back. "There's no reason to be crass about it. Now we have some business to take care of. Poor Rodney, he's never going to know what happened to me, but I'm sure you'll come up with something."

At that moment, Rodney came through the door again, already speaking as he entered the room, "I'm sorry, Sam, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I don't like leaving John. Maybe I can take him down to the lab with me..." His voice trailed off as he took in the tableau the three of them made – John, Carter and Koyla. "Sam?" He asked.

"Damn it, Rodney, don't you ever do as you're asked?" she exploded. "I was going to make the transfer and then you'd have John Sheppard and I'd have you and you'd never know the difference."

Rodney face crumpled with pain and betrayal. John wanted to go to him, he took a step toward Rodney, but Koyla stopped him with a small shake of his head.

"Never know? Of course I'd know. There's no way you could ever take John Sheppard's place," he spat at her.

"Oh, please, I don't have time for this melodrama," Sam huffed. "Bring them."

She went through the door where Koyla had entered without looking back to see that she was followed. Koyla gestured for them to follow.

Deciding Koyla could shoot him if he wanted, although John didn't really think he would after the trouble Sam Carter had went to in order to get him there, John went to Rodney. Taking Rodney's hand in his, they followed Carter together, hands clutched together tightly.

Carter frowned at them when she saw them. "Oh, please, I gave you time together you wouldn't have had otherwise. Now my time is almost up. I can't stay stored in the switchboard forever. Let's get on with this."

There was an odd machine in the middle of the room they entered. It was circular with a pad on the floor on either side. Suspended in the air above the machine was a crystal.

"Is that?" Rodney breathed.

Sam went and took her place on the pads closest to them. "Yes, it's the transfer machine. This will place my mind in John's body. I've already transferred everything over to John, so this is all that's left to make it official." She smiled at them, "Come, Rodney, you'll have John again. We'll be good together."

"You bitch," Rodney spat out at her. "You just don't get it; it's not John's body I want. I want John Sheppard, and you'll never be that. You might have his body, his face and voice, but you won't be him. And you'll never have me."

Her smile was a shark's smile, all teeth and the coldness of the deep, just before it closed its jaw and devoured its prey.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, McKay, I'll have you. I can see why you've been so devoted all these years. He's very pretty. John, if you will," she beckoned at the other pad.

Koyla was behind him then, his weapon shoved in John's ribs convincing him to move. There was another man in the room, he had the air of a technician, someone who ran the machine and made sure everything worked correctly. He kept his eyes on Carter, so probably no help there.

John didn't see that he had any other choice. He turned to Rodney, drawing the other man into a kiss. He tried to put everything he felt into the kiss, letting Rodney know that no matter what happened here, John Sheppard loved Rodney McKay.

Koyla didn't even bother with a warning, he just ripped John away from Rodney, marching him across the room until John stepped on the other pad.

"No," Rodney got out, his voice choked. He ran out the door back into the office.

Koyla started after him.

"Leave him," Carter snapped. "There's nowhere for him to go. Complete the transfer and then John will go after him."

Koyla nodded to the other man.

The technician went to a console on the other side of the room. John couldn't really see what he was doing, but he could feel the effects of whatever he was doing.

There was a swirling of the air around him. It tugged at him, growing stronger, pulling at him. John felt like he was being pulled back and forth, although he could see the room around him with perfect clarity, nothing else in the room was being swept with a gale-force wind. He saw Rodney come back in the room, John wanted to tell him to go, he didn't want to Rodney to see this. But he couldn't make himself say the words.

His eyes were drawn to Carter where she stood across from him. Her eyes were closed, it looked like she was at peace with whatever was about to happen.

John felt a tugging, but it wasn't his body that was being buffeted. It was his self, that thing that made him John Sheppard. He felt random memories begin to rise up in him – he remembered his first day at school, the thrill and excitement at starting this new adventure.

He remembered the first time he kissed a girl, he'd been more nervous than passionate. They'd bumped noses and clicked their teeth before they finally got it right.

He remembered the mission that got him kicked out of the Air Force, the emptiness that came with losing his friends despite his giving up everything in his attempt to save them.

He remembered the first time he'd driven a Formula One car, the high at the speed, the intoxication at the way the car responded to him. That night was the first time he'd kissed Rodney.

The machine was trying to take it all from him.

Across from him, Carter had a weird glow about her. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to be soon. John wondered if there would be any part of him left after this process. Would he be stuck as a prisoner inside his own head as Carter took Rodney? He looked over at Rodney, one last memory to take with him into oblivion. He felt hope surge within him when he saw that Rodney held a weapon in his hand.

Then John felt like he was being pulled, he could feel the blackness beckoning at him. Carter was glowing brighter now, almost too bright to look at.

There was an explosion, and a scream and that was all John knew.

~~~~~

John moaned as consciousness returned.

"Really fucking hate the future," he mumbled, not sure anything intelligible actually made it out.

Hands pushed him back down as he tried to push himself up.

"Don't move," Rodney said.

Oddly John remembered Carter saying she'd transferred everything to him.

John opened his eyes to find Rodney peering down at him. Those damn blue eyes – they got to him every time. There was worry and fear in Rodney's eye. John wanted to smile, to reassure Rodney that everything was going to be alright, but it came to him what he had to do.

"I'm fine, McKay," he said irritably. "Help me up."

The technician drew close, looking him over closer. "There was certainly time for the transference to take place," the man said in a prim, no-nonsense tone.

"And it did take place," John informed the man. He looked around and was surprised to find Koyla in the corner, bleeding out. The transference machinery was in pieces.

"Overkill much?" John waved at the machine and Koyla.

Rodney's chin went up, "I was fucking tired of Koyla and no one else is going to be taken and used the way John was."

God, John wanted to kiss him so bad.

John waved, "What's done is done, I suppose. I don't need the machinery anymore, so I guess everyone else will just have to die when it's their time." He smoothed a hand down his body, smiling in apparent admiration.

Rodney watched him, sorrow and worry reflected in his eyes. It almost broke John to continue the charade. But Rodney couldn't act for shit, it was important that Rodney present a heartbroken face to the world so everyone would believe that John Sheppard was Samantha Carter.

"Rodney." John held out his hand. Rodney came to his side, but refused to take his hand. John smiled at his obstinacy. He chuckled at the thought of what Sam Carter would have had to deal with in a reluctant Rodney McKay.

"Is this funny to you?" Rodney hissed.

"Not at all, Rodney," John replied. He glanced around at the shattered ruins of the machine; Rodney had done a good job. "Where did you get the gun?" he asked.

Rodney's chin went up, "You always were paranoid. You kept it in your desk drawer."

John nodded. "Shall we go?"

Rodney followed on his heels as John went through the office and into the hallway. "You might have John Sheppard's body, but you'll never have me, not really."

"God, Rodney, give it a rest would you?" John snapped. He needed to be able to think. He would have liked to have Rodney's input, but this first step into a brave new world was going to have to be on his own.

"Oh, no, this is what you wanted, wasn't it, Sam?" Rodney spat out. "Well, be careful what you ask for."

Rodney was silently furious on the ride back down the elevator, his back stiff and straight. He refused to meet John's eyes in the mirrored walls of the elevator. When they hit the lobby it was like everyone in the world was there – Sam's staff, his staff now John realized. They were all staring at them as he and Rodney walked through their midst. No one said a word. No one called out that John Sheppard was an imposter.

They went out the door into the sunshine. It seemed like it should be days later, but it was only an hour or so since John and Rodney had went into the building. Outside there was more silent staff, just watching as John and Rodney walked past. Lorne was waiting for them.

"Rodney?" he asked.

Rodney shook his head. Lorne turned away from them.

The crowd parted and John stopped. Waiting for them was the most beautiful car he'd ever seen – a Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith. Immaculately cared for, it shone in the sun, beckoning at John to slide in and just drive. A driver stood beside the car, keys in his hand.

Lorne ran after them. "Doesn't he have to prove that he's her?"

Rodney rounded on him, "He's Samantha fucking Carter, she transferred everything she owns over to him, he doesn't have to prove anything."

Everything whirled around John, Rodney knew. Somehow Rodney knew.

Rodney's hand on his elbow steadied him. "Almost there," Rodney's whispered, for John's ears only.

"You know?" John whispered back, wrapping his arms around Rodney, pulling him closer.

"Wasn't sure," Rodney murmured back, "Not until you saw that car."

John kissed Rodney then. For a second, it was just him and Rodney, the way it had always been. John stepped back, smirking at Rodney. Rodney flipped him off.

He took the keys from the driver, "I'll be driving today."

The man bowed, "As you will, sir," he replied smoothly, not even missing a beat over the fact that his boss was now a man instead of woman. He moved around to the other side of the car to open the passenger door for Rodney.

John slid in and started the car. He took a moment to listen to it purr. This car was his. Samantha Carter was now John Sheppard. He breathed out and put his foot on the gas.

"Carter," he heard the name and realized that he was supposed to react to that.

Lorne was at his window.

"My name is John Sheppard now," he said coldly, loud enough that it would carry to those bearing witness, "I would thank you to remember that."

Lorne spat. "Not on your life." He leaned into the car. "McKay, you need to coach him better. Sam Carter didn't drive."

Rodney shrugged, "She's Samantha Carter, you try telling her anything."

John put the car into gear. He had a feeling he was going to like being Samantha Carter. With Rodney at his side, they could change the world.

But work was for tomorrow, today they were going for a drive and find out just how fast his new ride could go.


End file.
